Keepsakes
His jazz collection fills the spare bedroom
Music man, you see, was his nom de plume
Our wedding album rests on the nightstand
A keepsake for my viewing on demand
The tarnished silver comb that stroked his hair
Lays on the dresser beside his easy chair
The carnation he wore on our wedding day
A keepsake preserved in a glass display
The love notes he sent are bound in a box
I read them again when life deals hard knocks
His old Volvo still sits in the driveway
In it he proposed to his fiancé
I’ve clung to these treasures, lived in the past
Keepsakes from four years that went by too fast
Comfort they bring as he watches from above
John, my husband, the only man I’ve loved
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